


White Rabbit

by the-eagle-of-masyaf (Dunkelherz)



Series: Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Corporal Punishment, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Mention of Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:57:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2255010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunkelherz/pseuds/the-eagle-of-masyaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair knew he was the best – but being the best came with a hard price. In a world full of death and violence it was hard to see the delicate things, the ones worth living for. If hate was all Altair has known his whole life, could he be able to love?</p><p>Prequel for 'Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again'</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Rabbit

**Author's Note:**

> This can be seen as a connecting piece of the canon universe to the alternate universe in 'Down The Rabbit Hole And Back Again'. It takes more focus on the order's business and Altair's psychology...

 

Saleh was a hard man. He was fast and merciless when it came to killing targets, his work often bloody and some thought he enjoyed it maybe a bit too much, to take the lives of others. But then again, he was good at what he did so maybe his sadistic streak was excusable. He was reliable and one everybody trusted, he would never leave a man behind and some of the younger novices looked up at him while the older assassins only had a disgusted snarl left for him.

 

They knew the truth.

 

Saleh would just do what would benefit him the most, an arrogant bastard who liked to talk his way out of work and let someone else do it. He was just there when it came to killing, when he could take the glory home. He would return to help his brothers if needed but not because out of caring, but because he wanted to look good in front of the others.

 

Saleh made sure that no one was killed during missions, he often took the lead and it always earned him and his group of assassins victory.

 

He could be trusted, yes. That didn't mean people liked him.

 

No. Most of his brothers did not. At the age of thirty-one Saleh was an old man, one of the oldest active members within the order. It didn't really mean he was _old_. But most men died before they could reach thirty, pierced by a blade of an enemy or killed by the noose.

 

Simple as that. After all, the life of an assassin wasn't fair and neither an easy one - sooner or later they would get punished for death they had brought.

 

So yes, maybe Saleh was an old man and a good assassin though he was a nothing but a lousy bastard when it came to others.

 

When Altair first met him he knew his father's friend was different.

 

He first saw him when he was eleven and it was six months before his father would die because of a mistake – a mistake not caused by him but he had to pay for with his life.

 

Saleh had trained with his father and therefore shared a special bond with him. After Umar's death Saleh had told him when Altair would be old enough he would make sure that he became a fine assassin just as his father has been. And Altair had waited for this day to come but it never did, because Saleh didn't take him as a novice. Instead Al Mualim did and so the years passed where he had trained underneath the eyes of the Grandmaster and Saleh had been gone most of the times to fulfill his missions. It wasn't uncommon for an assassins to be away for months, sometimes even years and Saleh always got those missions and he never complained. He knew he was good at what he did and he knew if Al Mualim sent him, the Grandmaster thought that no one else could do it.

 

Saleh was the ace he had upon his sleeve.

 

But then came Altair.

 

Seven years after their first encounter, he and Saleh met again – Altair finally had some time during his training and Saleh stayed long enough in Masyaf to see him. The man was older now and Altair was impressed that he still fought like a young man. Most men in Saleh's age became Dais or Rafiqs or taught novices how to fight as their muscles became tired and their bones would break that much easier – their bodies didn't hold the ability anymore as one of a youth did. But not Saleh. He still fought at the front and it didn't look as if he would stop anytime soon.

 

Saleh was a tough man. He hardly smiled or laughed but whenever Altair had been able to see him while passing through the halls there was something within Saleh's gaze.

 

Saleh had liked Altair's father, he had looked up to the other man since he'd been training with him. Altair's father would always be his mentor no matter how much time had passed after his death. Saleh had respected Umar far too much to ever forget him and maybe he thought he owned something to Altair.

 

Now it was different. Altair had hardly seen Saleh within seven years. Every now and then he'd been able to risk a glimpse at him but never a full conversation. But now... now he was bent over a table with his trousers around his ankles and moaning like a whore as Saleh was hovering above him from behind, thrusting into him without mercy. Saleh was a hard men – and not only when it came to killing. He took the things he liked. And he liked Altair. So it was just a question of time when Saleh would _take_ him.

 

This wasn't Altair's first experience with intimacy. He had kissed a girl before.

 

A kiss.

 

But this was entirely different and nothing he had ever experienced before. He had touched himself when being in bed, fantasizing about men. Sometimes women too. He figured a long time ago that he felt attracted to both genders - he'd never felt guilty for it. After all, wasn't it Al Mualim who'd taught him that nothing was true and everything permitted? Altair didn't believe in religions. He didn't believe in any god. So why should he feel bad just because some fools thought sodomy was against their god's wish? Fuck them. It wasn't _his_ god and he'd learned that he didn't have to bow in front of anybody. Everything he did, he did with pride. He was the best novice Al Mualim has seen in years – the Grandmaster himself often told him so.

 

Altair knew he was different. The first time he knew has been when the leader of their Order had chosen him as his novice. Something he hadn't done in years and his brothers had looked in awe at Altair, wondering what was so special about that young boy that Al Mualim wanted to see to his training in person when Altair had only been thirteen years old. Some of the older men said it was dangerous. That Altair should learn together with all the other boys or Al Mualim might risk for the young man to become spoiled and arrogant.

 

The Grandmaster didn't listen; he didn't have to anyway. His word was law within the Order and he had ruled over the assassins for two decades now. He had lead the men to new glory and he savored their trust. Some might question his actions within a whisper in the shadows but would never confront him out in the open. No one would dare.

 

Saleh was rough on him. His nails dug into Altair's hips as he hold him steady, changing his angle once more and every time he thrust into the boy he hit a secret spot inside of him which caused Altair's knees to grow weak. He bit onto his bottom lip to stifle his moans and his fingers curled into tight fists. One of Saleh's hands snaked around his neck and his digits closed over Altair's throat and he could hardly breath. It just added to the pleasure, he arched his back and it earned him a deep groan from the older man.

 

When Saleh had come to his room that night Altair wouldn't have thought that their meeting would end like this. The man had talked, asked him about the progress he made with his training and told him how proud his father would be if he were still alive. To hear this had saddened Altair but he wouldn't have shown it – not in front of Saleh. He would never show any weakness in front of the hard man who's face often remained in a stoic mask. He'd smelled alcohol on the assassin's breath and it was no secret that Saleh liked to drink when he was safe within Masyaf's walls. Altair had asked him why and Saleh had sat on his bed just looking at him. “When you've seen what I witnessed you will understand”, he'd told him and a grin had tugged at the corner of his lips. It was a grin that sent shivers down Altair's spine, it didn't hold any warmth. It was cruel and reminded him of the smile of a predator. But Saleh _was_ a predator and tonight Altair happened to be his prey.

 

It was his first time. He hadn't even had a woman yet and now he lost his virginity to a man who was twenty years older than him. At first Altair hadn't known if that's what he wanted, when Saleh's fingers had started to crawl over his stomach and up his chest when he had sat next to him on his bed. He'd stared at the other man in confusion, his breath caught inside his throat and his heart skipping a beat. He didn't stop him though and only started to fight back when Saleh had hurled him upwards and bent him over the small desk within the shadows of his chambers. He had kicked after the other man and tried to land a hit on him with his fist but Saleh was bigger and had more experience. It was easy to overthrow Altair.

 

Saleh's touches hadn't been gentle and he had cried in pain when those fingers sneaked underneath his robes and around his chest to twist and pinch a nipple. Within seconds Altair's cock had been hard and he discovered something new about himself.

 

“Don't hold back”, Saleh whispered into his ear and he pulled down Altair's robes so they hung around his waist and raked his nails over the boy's naked back. “Show your true face”, and he slowed down his movements, teasing Altair with gentle thrusts that didn't reach his prostate. “I've watched you for a long time boy. I know what you are.” The words engulfed Altair like thick honey and he knew they would forever stick to him. What surprised him was how calm Saleh's voice sounded as he thought he would collapse every moment now since his own breath was fast and shallow. But not Saleh. Saleh seemed to be in so much control right now and Altair _liked_ it.

 

Saleh pulled back and almost all the way out. Only the tip of his dick remained inside of Altair. His fingers found their way into Altair's hair and he pulled his head upwards, forcing the boy to rise from the table. His back was arched and Saleh brought his lips next to his ear.

 

“Whore”, he smirked, his words like acid and he thrust back all the way in and Altair fell forward by the sheer force of it.

 

Was this rape? Was it sex? He didn't know, fuck, he couldn't tell. He was eighteen years old damn it. He didn't know any better he just went with his body's reactions and tried to lose himself in all those new sensations. He moaned again and didn't hold back, Saleh's words just adding to his pleasure. His dignity was taken from him and he felt himself at the man's mercy and totally helpless to what he did to him – and he didn't even try to fight back. There was something wrong with him, certainly had to and – oh!

 

Saleh rolled his hips and his hand had went between Altair's legs at some point as he hold the boy's erect member in a firm hand and started to stroke him in rough movements. Altair bucked into Saleh's hand, his knees trembling and he grabbed the edges of the table with such force that his knuckles turned white.

 

“You and me, we're so much alike, Altair”, Saleh purred his name, his thrusts slow and steady now, almost lazily and his hand run over the boy's back. Goosebumps rose over his skin where the man had touched him. “When looking at you I see myself when I was younger. So much potential...” His fingers withdrew from his waist and a hard slap was delivered to his backside and Altair was sure it left a hand-print on his skin. He almost yelped but stifled his cries and instead, a moan crawled over his lips coming deep from within his throat.

 

Saleh didn't say anything else after that but thrust back into him, fast and merciless before he spent himself inside the boy. Altair wasn't finished yet, his cock still hard and leaking pre-cum, his heart still beating too fast and his breath shallow and erratic. Saleh pulled out and fastened his trousers, giving him another hard slap on his behind before his fingers curled around Altair's shoulder and whirled him around, pushing him with his back against the table and the edge dug hard and painful into his muscles The older man stared down on Altair, his face blank of all emotions and his gaze dipped lower to his crotch. His lips turned into a lop-sided grin as he watched his own cum dripping down those thighs. Altair panted heavily, his eyes turned on Saleh as he didn't dare to move. The man didn't say another word when he turned around, opening the door and left his room. Altair stared after him, not sure what to think and feel right now.

 

He knew Saleh had used him for his own pleasure, not caring if Altair would get something out of it or not. He sunk down to his knees, his own fingers grabbing his member and he started to stroke himself until he found his own peak, his semen covering his hand and gathered into a small pool on the ground between his knees. He trembled as he leaned forward, one hand bracing himself against the floor. He felt angry and betrayed but so much satisfied, his skin still tingling from where Saleh had touched him and his backside sore.

 

At that moment he swore to himself that this would never happen again. That he wasn't the whore Saleh liked to tell him he were. But it was also the moment where he lied to himself. Altair would turn back to Saleh and he would come for more. Sometimes the man would be generous enough to let him come, but often wouldn't grant him his release. Altair had already lost without even knowing.

 

xxx

 

He limped the next day. Of course he did. And he still didn't know what to make all of this. Saleh has departed early in the morning, another mission assigned by the master. He wouldn't return anytime soon since his destination was Jerusalem. It took five days to ride there so Altair figured he would probably be gone for three weeks.

 

His body ached and it was torture to sit during his lectures but he made it even though he got beaten with a cane on his fingers since he couldn't translate a Latin sentence. The pain actually helped him to focus on something else than Saleh. Now it was early in the afternoon and he was expected in the ring for combat training but he wouldn't make it, hell no. Not today. Instead Altair went to the stables. He hated the smell of horse's shit and always tried to get his way around from cleaning it. Since everybody knew that, he thought that probably no one would come looking for him there and when he walked past a row of horses he saw a familiar face.

 

“Malik.”

 

Altair sounded surprised as he hadn't expected the older boy to be there and hoped he wouldn't comment on his absence from training.

 

Malik looked up as he was tending to the horse right next to his side. Sweat was running down his face as it was rather hot that day and he used the back of his hand to wipe it from his face. He turned away then, going back to his work. “Aren't you supposed to have training?”, he asked without looking up and Altair winced as he got caught.

 

“Don't stick up your nose in peoples businesses”, he murmured but slowly walked further into the shadows when he heard footsteps outside and an assassin passed without giving him any attention.

 

Malik snorted and shook his head.

 

Altair stared at him for a while longer before he leaned against a wall. He didn't have anything to do expect to hide from his master's eyes and he certainly wouldn't want to help the other boy. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked against a small stone next to his feet.

 

He looked up then to watch Malik. They didn't speak much and had hardly anything to do with each other. Altair knew that Malik had a younger brother, Kadar, which also trained under the assassins to become one himself – which meant that Malik actually was the only one underneath the novices who had a sibling training with him.

 

Altair didn't dislike Malik but they didn't share a friendship either. There were those few times when he had fantasized about the other boy when lying hand on himself and he still wondered if Malik's body would look anything like he always imagined. Yes, men hold his main attention and since Saleh had... had done this to him last night he got all the more curious about it.

 

He slowly slumped down against the wall, his movements stiff and careful as he sat with his legs crossed underneath his body. He only halfhearted watched Malik doing his work, his eyes fixed to the older man's movements without really looking.

 

“So... why are you hiding?”, Malik asked him then and his voice cut through the silence like a sword. Altair actually flinched.

 

“I'm not. What makes you think that?”, he asked, his eyes blinking innocently at him. Since he was sitting on the ground he had to look up at the other boy. Malik was older than him but they almost shared the same height which gave Altair always the feeling to be superior.

 

“Don't act like a brat Altair”, Malik smirked, scratching the horse lazily behind its ears but his words dripped venom, his tongue fast and unforgiving as always. It often unnerved Altair – Malik always acted as if he thought nothing of him. He smirked darkly. Malik was probably just jealous as were all the others. He didn't have to fear the words, they didn't hold anything for him. Altair knew he was the best – otherwise Al Mualim wouldn't tell him so. It was a praise that came with a hard price and he gladly took it because every punishment the master would unleash on him for not being the very best made him stronger. He could take it. He _would_ take it. Not once did he feel ashamed when the cane or whip hit him. It was for his own good, he knew that very well and he took it with pride, knowing if he would cry out in pain master would be disappointed, something he didn't want to happen. Since his father has died Al-Mualim had stepped into that role and Altair felt close to him and he would do everything just to get a kind word from the Grandmaster.

 

Everything to make him proud.

 

He scoffed at Malik. “You're one to talk... why don't you let me be and mind your own work?”, he snarled.

 

“I do”, Malik replied calmly, “as you might see. It's just a very unique sight you're presenting me with. Al Mualim's favorite hiding between horse's shit like a fool.”

 

Altair scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Jealousy doesn't suit you nor any other assassin. You should know better then to step that low, Malik.”

 

The boy turned, the brush he had just groomed his horse with dangling between his fingers. “Your pride will be your downfall some day”, he snapped, his voice nothing but a low hiss. “And when it happens I'm going to be there.” It didn't sound like a threat but more like a promise and it made Altair all the more angry but he swallowed the reply which lay on his tongue and gave Malik nothing but an arrogant glare.

 

“Empty words... nothing but empty words”, he spat at him and got up, suppressing a whine as he felt the pain in his backside. He turned around and left.

 

It took a little over six months before his world shattered like glass. Besides the fact he never felt wrong in doing what he did, he knew too well how much it was despite in the eyes of society – and so it happened and he had to bear to consequences as everybody else would have.

 

He was kneeling in front of Saleh, his robes gaping open to expose his chest and lower stomach, one hand within his breeches, stroking himself as his tongue whirled around the older man's cock, his lips parted and mouth stretched as he tried to take him deeper still. Fingers curled around his shoulders, pulling him back and he fell to the ground only to stare up into his furious master's eyes. Shock was written all over his face in disbelieve and his nostrils flared with unleashed anger. Al Mualim's eyes shot up to Saleh who was busy to put himself back into his pants, chest still heaving and face red.

 

Altair couldn't really move – all he could do was staring up at Al Mualim and all he could think of was that this must be a dream. There was no rational explanation that this was really happening and Altair refused to believe it was, in fact, happening. He shook his head slowly with disbelieve. “You-”, Al Mualim said and pulled him up by his neck with surprisingly strength. Altair had no idea the old man still possessed it. He moved Altair behind his body as if he was trying to shield him from Saleh. “This-”, Al Mualim said and pointed his finger at Saleh, “cannot be forgiven.” He turned and looked at both Saleh and Altair. “Nothing of this will leave the room”, he said and he sounded breathless, furious and Altair knew what he meant with that. If the order would learn about what was going on between Saleh and Altair... Al Mualim couldn't let that happen.

 

“He was asking for it”, Saleh tried and Altair glared at him. “Master, I swear he wanted to see and I thought-”

 

“Silence!” Al Mualim glanced at Saleh. “Even if what you say is true, you should have known better”, he hissed. “You will see me in the morning, before sunrise”, he told Saleh and Altair could see how all the color drained of Saleh's face. Even a man as hard as him held his fears and Altair knew while Saleh seemed aloof to the things happening around him, the order was the only place he could call a home – _killing_ was the only thing he was good with. If he'd lose it, he'd lose everything.

 

“As for you”, Al Mualim said next and focused back onto Altair. “I've been too soft on you, haven't I?” He shook his head and for a moment it seemed as if he'd really regret what he'd say next. “We need to get those thoughts out of your head.”


End file.
